Beneath the Stars
by CrystallineMaple
Summary: Ivan Braginsky is living quietly with a terminal disease, finding comfort in stargazing. When Alfred Jones, an energetic high-schooler with dreams of becoming an astronomer, happens to cross his path, a bittersweet friendship forms. Could it lead to something more, or will both parties end up hurt? RusAme.
1. Chapter 1

_I saw an AU prompt on Tumblr that set the stage with a sick Ivan and an astronomer Alfred. The thing was only about a paragraph, and I found myself wishing for more—for an actual story_ _—so I thought, 'Why not write it yourself?' I'd just like to say that I got the basis for this story from Tumblr. Please enjoy, and let me know what you think of this first chapter!  
_

* * *

There were two things about that little forest clearing that never changed.

First, Ivan always brought his large plaid blanket, which he would spread down on the soft grass. He'd had that blanket for years. His older sister had given it to him a while back for Christmas, along with a scarf she made.

The other thing that never shifted was the amazing view one could delight in by looking up. On clear nights, the stars would shine so brightly that you almost felt like the universe had aligned just for you, that everything in your life and all the events in history had happened just to lead you to that moment.

Ivan never ceased to feel that sense of awe when looking at the stars, especially after his diagnosis. He avoided calling it _the_ diagnosis, as he knew his life should be defined by more than an illness, even if it seemed clear that there was a high probability said illness would end things altogether.

Though it _was_ fair to say that Ivan's diagnosis had been one of the larger pivotal moments of his life. The first, naturally, had been when he and his family had moved from St. Petersburg to New York when Ivan was eleven. Of course, he'd gone to high school in America, then attended an in-state college in the city.

At the age of twenty-two, he'd received his diagnosis. Leukemia. So many appointments, so many statistics, so much sadness in the eyes of his family whenever he visited them.

Now twenty-three, Ivan knew things were not looking so great. Five-year survival rates for his type of sickness were around 25 percent, and he'd only been diagnosed for about a year. But still, he hoped. And, settling down on his plaid blanket and looking up at the familiar sky, he found it a little less difficult than usual to hope.

Ivan had always been fascinated by things dealing with space and, really, anything with the prefix _astro_. Astronauts. Astronomy. Astrology. After moving to America from Russia, the first familiar thing he saw was Polaris.

He'd pointed this out to his younger sister Natalya, who was eight at the time, and all she'd said was, "Polaris. Is that the dog one?"

So Ivan kept his stargazing to himself, which was perfectly fine. He was fairly decent at recognizing a few of the constellations. Definitely a few stars short of being a professional stargazer or anything like that, but he only did it because he enjoyed it and it was something he was still able to do. (And, of course, he was also still quite capable of looking up ridiculous horoscopes online in the comfort of his own apartment, too.)

Around eleven o'clock, Ivan sat up, yawned, and started to pack up his things. He'd brought his sketchbook and some art pencils, but after getting caught up in the view, he hadn't drawn anything. That was fine. He gathered his art supplies and blanket and headed back to his apartment.

It was just over a ten-minute walk through the woods back to Ivan's apartment, which was located in a small town about an hour from New York City. Ivan spent a lot of time lately musing about how life changed so much. He was working as a freelance artist, though his illness prevented him from leaving his apartment very often. Natalya was off at college on the West Coast. Katyusha, his older sister, had started a café with one of her close friends. Ivan visited the place once, and it was very welcoming and cozy. He wished he could go there more often, but it was a bit far even on the days he felt well enough to journey around. Katyusha understood.

Ivan had left his cell phone sitting on the kitchen table, and there were two texts waiting on it when he got back. The first was from Natalya, asking how much Red Bull one could consume before vital organs shut down. Ivan sighed and sent a message in reply, telling his sister to get some rest. The second was from Mathias Køhler, a frequent client of Ivan's, asking about an art commission. Ivan arranged to meet the Dane at a nearby coffeehouse the next day at noon, then, fatigued from being out and about so much, went to bed.

* * *

It wasn't until a few days later that Ivan was able to return to the clearing, armed with his blanket, sketchbook, and a palette of watercolor paints. Little yellow flowers, somewhat difficult to see in the night's dim lighting, were growing everywhere. Buttercups, Ivan believed they were called.

When he got to his usual spot, however _—_ which had _always_ been empty, every time he'd gone there before _—_ he could see someone else examining the stars, a small portable telescope set up a few feet away from a big quilt.

Ivan groaned inwardly. He wasn't really in the mood to deal with someone else, but it wasn't like he could go up to the person and tell them to leave. He himself didn't want to leave, either. He was finally feeling well enough to leave his apartment, and he wasn't about to turn back around just because there was a human being he had to interact with.

Sighing, Ivan headed to the opposite side of the clearing, unfolding his plaid blanket and opening up his sketchbook to a blank page. If he just didn't talk to that other guy, maybe the other guy wouldn't _—_

"Hey! You! I've got an extra sandwich; would you like it?"

 _What the hell?_ Ivan slammed his book shut and glared. Obviously he was too far away and it was too dark for the other person to see him shooting daggers, but still, it made him feel a little better. Oh, wonderful. Now this stranger was actually _coming over_ _—_

"So, you know about this place?" The stranger walked all the way over to Ivan's blanket, carrying a wrapped sandwich in one hand and a spiral notebook in the other.

"Yes," Ivan said curtly. "And I apologize, but it is not always safe to accept food from complete strangers."

The stranger _—_ who didn't seem to be more than a teenager, really _—_ laughed. "Right, sorry! My name's Alfred Jones."

"Ivan Braginsky," Ivan replied warily. "Do you come here often?" If so, how had they never encountered each other?

"Nope!" Alfred said, smiling and looking up at the stars. "I just discovered it tonight. It's fantastic!"

"You like stargazing?" Ivan inquired, tipping his head across the clearing at Alfred's spot, where his telescope stood.

Alfred looked so enthusiastic that Ivan couldn't help feeling his spirits raise a little. "I'm graduating high school in a month. I'm gonna major in astronomy at Cornell. I'm a little sad I'm just now discovering this place for the first time. It's amazing."

"Yeah," Ivan said, glancing upwards. "It is." Ivan also snuck a sidelong glance at Alfred, who was enraptured by the view, his smile a flash of brightness reflected by the stars. Really? Ivan never would have guessed such a loud, excited kid would be patient (or, honestly, intelligent) enough to study astronomy, especially at such a prestigious college. Well, good for him.

"What about you?" Alfred asked, motioning at the sketchbook. "You like art?"

Ivan suddenly felt self-conscious. "It is nothing, really."

Alfred plopped right down next to Ivan on the blanket. "Aww, c'mon! Let's see!"

Ivan looked away.

"Oh." Alfred tapped his pencil against his wrist. "I know some artists get that way with their drawings. You don't have to show me! One day, though...!"

"One day?" Ivan raised an eyebrow. Did this kid seriously think...?

"That's right!" answered Alfred, scrawling down a few sequences of numbers in his notebook, his left hand fiddling with a dog tag necklace that was hanging around his neck as his right hand mindlessly calculated measurements. "Say, where do you go to school?"

"Eh? I already graduated. From NYU. Last year. I work as a freelance artist now." Ivan stared as Alfred, seemingly without thought, scribbled out sum after sum. "You're really good at math, yeah?"

Alfred paused, looking up from his paper. "I mean, I guess I'm all right. Hey! Did you see?"

"See what?"

"Look!" Alfred pointed up at the sky. "Do you know any of the constellations?"

Ivan followed Alfred's outstretched hand. "Well, it's May. I... no, not really."

"Well, that's Virgo."

"Oh, I think I knew that one."

"Great! And—see that? That's Corona Borealis."

"That group of stars there, you mean?"

"Exactly."

They were silent for a minute, Alfred writing out more numbers as Ivan sketched the constellations down.

"Ivan?" Alfred broke the silence, another dazzling grin flashing across his face like a comet.

"What?"

"Do you want this sandwich now?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey! Ivan!"

"You again?" Ivan grumbled, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. He'd returned to the clearing the next evening, and it seemed Alfred had the same idea, too, even though the kid hadn't brought his telescope or anything. Just a clipboard. "I was trying to take a nap."

"With your eyes open?" Alfred laughed. "Sure, right. Can I sit?" Alfred motioned at Ivan's blanket.

"Fine."

Alfred plopped down, stretching out his legs in front of himself and smiling. "Not drawing anything tonight?"

"No, not today. I spent many hours working on a commission earlier in the afternoon, so I am taking a break now."

"Oh, too bad. I was hoping you could teach me how to draw." Alfred pointed at his clipboard.

Ivan stared at Alfred with his best incredulous expression. "That is printer paper, you know. Do you not have a sketchbook or anything?"

Alfred tipped his head quizzically. "What?"

"How did you even know I was going to be here?"

"Well. I didn't. But you said yesterday that you come here a lot, so I thought there might be a chance..."

Ivan settled back down on the blanket, clasping his hands together and resting them under his head. "Forget it. I am not going to teach you how to draw. Why don't you just study the stars or something? Isn't that what you came here for in the first place?"

"U-uh, yeah." Alfred laid down next to Ivan to stargaze, both of them lying on their backs, violet and blue eyes searching the skies.

Ivan noticed Corona Borealis, the constellation Alfred had pointed out to him the previous evening. "What are your plans for this summer?"

For once, Alfred paused. "Graduation's not for a month. Well, thirty-two days. Not that I'm counting." He laughed, and Ivan smiled. Ivan had counted down the days, too, back in high school. "Just know it is going to go by faster than you want it to. Before you know it, you are going to be like me, wondering where all those loud class bells and disgusting American school lunches went."

"Are school lunches better in other places?"

Ivan chuckled. "I've always brought my own lunch, even when I lived in Russia. I moved here when I was eleven."

"From?"

"St. Petersburg."

"I was wondering. You have an accent."

"I _know."_

"No, I like it." Alfred sighed. "I used to really want an accent. Any kind. When I was ten, I would spend hours trying to sound like Daniel Radcliffe."

This got a real laugh out of Ivan. After a minute, he said, "You know, Alfred, if you want, I will try to teach you how to draw."

"Really?" Alfred turned to look at the Russian. "And I'll teach you constellations!" He looked back up, his eyes glittering in the starlight. He raised his right hand to the sky. "You can see Ursa Minor."

"Little Bear."

"Yeah." Alfred's voice sounded content. "The North Star is the tail of the bear. That's the brightest one in the constellation. They say it's four hundred and thirty-three light years away."

"But they don't really know, do they?"

"No, they don't. But I think it's like that with everything. None of us really have a clue about this universe." Alfred's voice was slowing down, and Ivan knew Alfred was growing sleepy. He felt a strange sense of happiness wash over him. Not the kind of happiness where he felt like skipping around and yelling out his good mood to everyone. The kind of happiness where he felt warm and secure, and at ease.

"Hey, wake up," Ivan muttered, knowing he was dangerously close to falling asleep himself.

"I'm taking a nap," Alfred replied in a Russian accent, mocking what Ivan had said earlier.

Ivan yawned, ignoring Alfred. "How far away do you live?"

"A few minutes' drive down the road. My house isn't far at all. Good night."

Ivan forced himself to stand up. "Do _not_ go to sleep. I need my blanket."

Alfred opened his eyes. "Come on. I'm"—yawn—"perfectly comfortable here."

"Okay, then, I am leaving! If you don't give me back my blanket the next time you see me—"

"Are you coming here tomorrow?"

Ivan frowned. It would depend, really, on how he felt. But he didn't want to tell Alfred about his sickness. He chose to evade. "Tomorrow's Sunday. Shouldn't you get some rest for Monday? Can you afford to come out here tomorrow?"

Alfred sat up. "I can if you say you'll be here tomorrow."

Ivan's face turned red, but thankfully, it was too dark to tell. How did Alfred seem so calm and unflustered? Not that Ivan was _flustered,_ but who just casually dropped lines like that? "I don't know. Anyway, you'll need to get rest tomorrow."

"Well, we can meet in the afternoon, then."

Ivan raised an eyebrow. "That's pointless. The stars won't be out."

"Right." Alfred stood, too, rolling up the blanket. "I forgot. Well, here you go. Until next time?"

"Yeah," Ivan replied, wondering how such a large detail could have slipped Alfred's mind. "Next time."

* * *

The next day wouldn't have been a good day to go stargazing, anyway. Rain rolled in around noon, and a steady drizzle continued until the evening, when it escalated into a storm. Ivan spent most of the day painting and working on his commission for Mathias.

He was in the middle of making some coffee when someone knocked on the door. Ivan poured himself a mug and hurried over to the door, his eyes flickering over the time. 7:38 PM. It was a little late for someone to be stopping by, but more unusual was the fact he actually had a guest. For a thousandth of a second, Ivan hoped it would be Alfred, but then he realized the kid didn't even know where he lived. He wondered why he'd hoped for such a thing, feeling ridiculous.

No, Katyusha stood in the doorway, closing her umbrella and leaning it against the side of the building. "Hi, sorry for stopping by unannounced. Can I come in?"

"Of course," Ivan replied, opening up the door and welcoming his older sister inside. He felt a momentary twinge of some strange kind of disappointment, but he brushed it away quickly. He was happy to see Katyusha. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, but would it be possible for me to spend the night here?"

"You know you are welcome here any time," Ivan replied honestly. "But why? You are all right, aren't you?" He walked over to the kitchen counter and made his sister a cup of coffee. She liked hers with a splash of milk and some cream. They sat down on the couch with their drinks.

Katyusha giggled, looking a little sheepish. "Thank you, Ivan. I'm fine. Just... Elizaveta... she's..."

Elizaveta was Katyusha's roommate, and the co-owner of their café. Ivan had met her on occasion, and she seemed very nice. She'd tried to set him up with some guy, which was a little strange, but she was kind and a hard worker. "Is she okay?"

"She had a guy over tonight," Katyusha chuckled. "I told her I'd be out of the apartment."

Ivan laughed. "Well, that's fine. Have you talked to Natalya lately?"

"That girl," Katyusha sighed, "is a piece of work. Did you know she called me just the other day and asked me if she could start her own mafia? I think she got rejected by some guy and is now channeling all of her rage into consuming extra-large chocolate bars."

"Chocolate. That reminds me." Ivan stood up and walked over to the cabinet, pulling out a chocolate bar and returning to the sofa. He split it in half, handing one to Katyusha. They clinked their chocolate like it was champagne—a silly thing they'd done ever since they were children—and grinned at each other. "Cheers."

They stayed up late, talking about nothing in particular, just enjoying the company. There were few people Ivan loved as much as his sisters, and as he sat with Katyusha, he realized this more than ever.

In the morning, Ivan woke up early to watch the sunrise, but it was still raining. He couldn't go back to sleep, so he grabbed the novel he'd been reading lately and sat at the kitchen table. After a while, though, he just watched the rain, staring out the window. He was so spaced out he didn't notice Katyusha walk into the kitchen.

"Good morning," she said, startling Ivan.

"Oh. Hi."

"I'm going to head out now. Thank you very, very much."

"Come back whenever," Ivan replied, looking back out the window.

* * *

"Is this everything? That'll be twenty-two dollars and..."

"Thanks." Ivan handed the cashier the money and took his bouquet. He was buying flowers to paint a still life, and while fake flowers would be more practical and cheaper, probably, he could never resist stopping by the flower shop when he had a chance. He held his bouquet of pink and white carnations close to his chest, heading for the door, when—

"Hey!"

Ivan turned to see Alfred walking toward him, grinning.

"Hi," Ivan said.

Alfred pointed at the carnations. "Girlfriend?"

"Still life," Ivan said with a snort. "What are you doing here?"

"My grade is giving flowers to all our teachers," Alfred said, turning to scan over a row of bouquets. "The class president told me to pick some up. I don't remember which kind he wanted me to get, though..."

Ivan tapped a finger against his chin. "Well, what about daisies? Those are very nice. My favorite are sunflowers, personally."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "I'll call him. What a coincidence seeing you! Are you doing anything? Do you wanna grab something to eat?"

Truthfully, Ivan wasn't feeling so well. "Ah, no, sorry. I'm not feeling great, so I think I am just going to head home."

"Well, we should meet up sometime!" Alfred was pulling a scrap of paper out of his pocket, scribbling something down on it. He handed it to Ivan, beaming. "Well, I'll see you! Bye!"

Ivan shook his head. Crazy weird kid. He opened his umbrella as he stepped out of the shop, glancing down at the paper.

Alfred had given him his phone number.


	3. Chapter 3

On Thursday evening, Ivan found himself sitting on his laptop, a cup of tea and a sketchbook opened to a blank page on his nightstand, when something caught his eye. A news headline boasted that a meteor shower was supposed to be occurring on Saturday, and the prime viewing time was nine.

 _I should go watch,_ Ivan thought. It was sure to be beautiful, and even if he didn't have a great view of anything, it would still be nice to get out of the house. After debating for a minute, he stood up, walked over to his bureau, and grabbed his wallet. Inside was the slip of paper Alfred had given him, tucked behind a receipt from the grocery store and a list of art supplies he needed.

Ivan bit his lip and dialed the number into his phone, collapsing back on his bed. He knew Alfred would love that sort of thing; in fact, he was almost positive Alfred was probably already informed about it. It rang twice before a cheerful, "Hello?" punctuated the silence.

"Hi, Alfred, this is Ivan."

Shuffling. "Oh—oh! Hey, hi! What's up? How are you?"

"I am good," Ivan said, amused by Alfred's antics. "And yourself?"

Alfred exhaled loudly. "Studying for finals. And AP exams. And everything, really. Running on coffee."

"Red Bull?"

Alfred laughed. "That too. Loads of it."

"What a pain high school is. I am sure you are very busy, then? Too busy to see the meteor shower on Saturday with me?"

"Aw, shit." Alfred faltered. "I'm sorry, Ivan. I'm already going to record and study it with my astronomy club."

"No, no, that's fine!" Ivan said quickly. "I know you are probably already in the loop about all those kinds of things. I was just wondering."

"Well, I appreciate it, really. Hey! Why don't we go stargazing tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Ivan fiddled with the edge of his comforter. Why was his heart beating so fast? "Sure. What time?"

"Uh... eight? Does eight work?"

"Yeah, eight works."

"Great." Ivan could _hear_ the smile in Alfred's voice. "I'll see you tomorrow, then!"

Ivan could not stop the grin that traced his lips. "Yes. Goodbye."

* * *

Mathias Køhler asked Ivan out for coffee the next day, and Ivan left his apartment just before noon, shoving his wallet into his pocket and locking the door behind him. The weather reports were predicting a half-chance of rain later that day, but it was impossible to tell at that moment. The sun shone softly and a light breeze rustled the trees around Ivan, the pleasant scent of summer air filling his lungs.

He raked a hand through his ash-colored hair, breathing deeply and grabbing his car keys. Ivan had met Mathias in college; coincidentally, they ended up moving only a few minutes away from each other. Mathias was very enthusiastic about art and often commissioned Ivan for paintings, and a casual friendship had formed between them over the years. Though Mathias was two years older, they were very close in age maturity-wise, and generally had a nice time together.

Ivan got to the coffeehouse first. He ordered a drink and sat down, pulling out his phone to kill time before the Dane arrived. The door opened and Ivan didn't look up, but he smiled when he heard Mathias' familiar voice ordering his usual: hazelnut, no sugar, extra cream. Mathias was a coffee fanatic and was very excited when Ivan had mentioned that his older sister co-owned a coffeeshop.

"Morning, Braginsky!" Mathias singsonged as he sat down across from Ivan, sunlight catching in his blue eyes and turning them to ice. "How have you been?"

"Same as usual," Ivan said. "No better, no worse—and yourself?"

"I, my friend, am exceptional." Mathias took a huge gulp of his coffee and leaned forward, his eyebrows furrowing. "You, however, are something else today. You got yourself a girlfriend, hmm?"

Ivan laughed. "What? No."

Mathias tapped the apple of cheek. "No, no, no. Braginsky, see, that lie doesn't work with me! You've got this slight red tint to your face right here; y'know, I've never seen that on you before."

"You sure seem lively this morning. Do you really need to add caffeine to that?" Ivan said, tipping his head at the cup in Mathias' hands.

"Okay, okay, fine. But really! You've got to tell me who's got you like this."

An image of Alfred flashed through Ivan's mind, but he pushed it away. "Must be the warm weather. I don't know. How's Lukas?" Lukas Bondevik was Mathias' boyfriend, also older than Ivan, same age as Mathias. Apparently Mathias and Lukas had been together since high school and now lived in an apartment together. Ivan had met Lukas once, briefly, and the guy had been very quiet and very cold, cold enough that Ivan found it odd Mathias managed to draw his attentions. Opposites attract?

They chatted for another hour. One of the reasons Ivan enjoyed hanging around Mathias so much was because Mathias knew about Ivan's illness and did not go awkwardly out of the way to avoid talking about it, instead simply approached it in a casual manner when necessary. He inquired about Ivan's health from time to time, always with an encouraging, dazzling smile; the Dane was always ready with a joke or a sympathetic hug. Ivan liked that.

He and Mathias parted ways. Ivan poked around a family-run store selling trinkets and knickknacks and stopped to have a word with the shopkeeper—Ivan was a frequent customer and the owners were familiar with him—before grabbing a few things from the grocery store and heading back home.

He still had a while before eight. He worked on a few commissions, read from his copy of _Anna Karenina,_ and spent a while on the phone with Natalya. He managed to talk her out of burning her ex's dorm down, but he hung up wondering what might happen to that poor boy. Oh well.

All day, the sky was steadily darkening with rain clouds. Maybe the weather forecasts had been right.

At seven-fifty, despite the ominous clouds lurking on the horizon, Ivan decided to drive to the spot. He threw a few blankets into his car and rode off. He was about to pull off to the side of the road and park so he could walk the rest of the distance to the meadow when he saw someone picking their way along the edge of the road. Ivan sighed. Damn pedestrians getting in the way... wait. Was that...

"Oh, dear God," Ivan muttered, inching his car forward. Alfred. He honked, causing the American teen to jump and turn around. Alfred looked like he was about to let loose a volley of curse words, but Ivan waved and rolled down the window. Alfred hurried over, a grin on his face.

"Hi," Ivan said. "Looks like it is going to rain."

"Already is." Alfred pointed at Ivan's windshield. A few rain droplets had already splattered on the glass.

"Why did you walk?"

"Exercise," Alfred laughed. Ivan decided he really did like Alfred's laugh. It kind of reminded him of Mathias', or Katyusha's.

"Get in the car."

"The clearing is, like, a minute away."

"It is going to rain, Alfred. Would you like to stargaze in the rain?" Ivan said sarcastically.

Alfred sighed and opened the passenger door. "Are you going to drive me home?"

"Would you like me to?" Ivan's eyes flickered over at Alfred as he began to drive. "You are welcome to come over to my house if you like. Have you eaten?"

"No," Alfred said. "Are you sure that's okay? And you're not some serial killer, are you?"

Ivan rolled his eyes and began driving back to the apartment. "It is no trouble at all—and no, I am fairly certain I am not a serial killer. My little sister may be, though." Ivan told Alfred about the phone call with Natalya earlier that day, and Alfred laughed again.

The rain picked up once they reached the complex's parking lot, and both Ivan and Alfred hurried up the stairwell to Ivan's apartment.

"You live alone?" Alfred asked.

Ivan unlocked the door. "Yes."

Alfred's eyes widened as he stepped into the apartment. Ivan frowned. It was fairly clean. What was wrong?

"This is amazing," Alfred exclaimed. Ivan realized Alfred was looking at one of his canvases. His commission for Mathias. He'd left it to dry on his easel by the couch, his paintbrushes still lying clean by the sink and newspapers spread out to protect the coffee table.

"Thank you," Ivan said, startled.

Alfred took his shoes off by the door and walked over to the canvas to examine it. "Wow, Ivan, this is really awesome. Seriously. Can I buy this?"

Ivan smiled. "I am sorry, but it is a commission for a friend."

The painting was the well-known waterfront Copenhagen, the multicolored European-style houses still unfinished and half-dry. Alfred smiled. Really smiled. "This is so pretty."

"Thank you." Ivan was slightly flustered. He walked over to the kitchen area, opening up the fridge. "Let me see now. I already ate, but I could heat up some of my leftovers for you. Or I could make you spaghetti or—"

"Ivan?" Alfred interrupted, his face reddening. "Um, please don't be mad at me..."

The Russian shut the fridge and looked over at Alfred. "What?"

"I'm sorry. I lied. I already ate dinner. I just wanted to spend time with you. Sorry, is that weird?"

Ivan blinked. "N-no. No, that is all right. Uh, well, would you like anything to drink?"

"Water, if that's not too much."

Ivan filled a glass. "You can sit down, you know." He chuckled at how awkward Alfred looked and headed back into the living area, handing Alfred a glass of water. They both sat on the couch.

Thunder rumbled outside, and Ivan turned to Alfred, his eyebrows raised. "I told you it is good we did not stay outside."

"Yeah, yeah," Alfred grumbled. He paused, looking around. "Don't you get lonely, living alone?"

"No, it is okay. My sister visits me sometimes. I am fine with it."

"Yeah? You're really introverted, you know. That's cool."

Ivan grunted. "Well, you are very extroverted. You seem like the kind of person who does not ever shut up."

That made Alfred laugh. "Sometimes I get headaches from talking too much."

"Headaches?" Ivan reached over and pressed his index finger against Alfred's forehead. "I have heard that if you press right here, it can cure headaches."

Alfred's eyes widened. "Oh—um—y-yeah—"

Ivan pulled his hand away. "What is the matter?"

Alfred turned red. _"Nothing!"_

"You are very odd." Ivan stood up and walked over to the television stand. "Would you like to watch a movie? I could make popcorn."

"Yeah! Do you have anything American?"

"I have _Captain America."_

"Wonderful," Alfred said. "We should watch that. It's a yes from me."

The storm outside raged. Ivan and Alfred turned off all the lights and hunkered down on the couch with a giant bowl of popcorn. Alfred had clearly seen the movie many times before but still got excited whenever any kind of commotion happened, and Ivan found himself thoroughly enjoying watching Alfred's reactions.

By eleven, the bowl of popcorn was empty and the movie credits were rolling. "I should get you home," Ivan said. For some reason, he felt something that was almost disappointment. It seemed Alfred felt it, too, because he said, "I guess," and stood up rather hesitantly. "Thank you so much for letting me come over."

"It was fun," Ivan said. "Come on. I'll drive you back. Give me directions."

Alfred still seemed hesitant. "Well, okay. This is very awkward, but I have never been in this neighborhood before. I don't know where I am. I tried to pull up directions on Google, but my service is out because of the storm." He looked mortified and buried his head in his hands. "Ugh. This is so embarrassing. I'm sorry."

Ivan picked up his own phone off the coffee table. "Shit. My service is out, too."

Alfred looked at Ivan helplessly. "I guess I could figure it out if we drove around a bit—"

"I don't know. The rain is so heavy now, it does not seem very effective to wander around." Ivan bit his lip in frustration and sighed. "You could stay here, but I do not want to make you uncomfortable."

"No, I can't inconvenience you like that."

"It is okay. You are my friend." Ivan plopped back down on the couch. "Would your family worry about you?"

"Don't worry. I sent my mom a text the instant I got in your car." Alfred smiled. "Are you sure me staying here wouldn't be too much trouble?"

"It is fine, Alfred. Here, I'll show you the guest room."

"Ah, Ivan?"

"What?"

Alfred's mouth slammed shut. "N-no. Nothing, never mind. Thank you for letting me stay here..."


	4. Chapter 4

Naturally, Ivan assumed he would be awake first. Alfred was the typical tired, worn-out, end-of-the-year student, and Ivan was, according to society's standards, an adult with his own home and steady life. So when Ivan woke at seven, he washed his face, brushed his teeth, and wandered out into the living room, expecting he'd have to wake Alfred in a few hours.

To his surprise, Alfred was sitting on the couch, reading Yevtushenko (Ivan assumed that the compilation was his copy, as he'd left it sitting on his coffee table a few days ago). Ivan had loaned Alfred some sleep clothes, and Ivan could not deny the fact that Alfred pulled off the 'this is my boyfriend's oversized shirt that he gave to me after I spent the night at his house' vibe very well. Even if, of course, that vibe was not real at all. Ivan shoved away his irritating thoughts and cleared his throat.

"Have you been awake for long?"

Alfred startled and set down Ivan's book. "No. Fifteen minutes, maybe."

Ivan pointed at the Yevtushenko book. "You like poetry?"

"Not really, no." Alfred smiled. "But you do?"

"Yes. Could you tell?" Ivan grinned back. He had tons of books of poetry in both Russian and English, and in every single one, he'd bookmarked his favorite poems, underlined, highlighted, written notes in the margins—before he moved to America, he had wanted to be a poet. But art fit him more. "Do you want breakfast?"

"Sure."

Ivan headed to the kitchen. "I am thinking of making waffles. Would you like waffles?"

Alfred followed. "What? No way! That's way too much to make you do."

Ivan raised an eyebrow. "It is not for you. I was simply in a waffle mood," he teased. Then, more seriously: "It is no trouble, I promise. Coffee?"

Alfred sat at the tiny kitchen table, eyeing the plants on Ivan's windowsill. Ivan noticed that while it was still raining and the sky hadn't changed from its dark gray color, at least there was no thunder and it didn't seem to be storming. "These are nice. I must admit, you do rather fit the whole artist aesthetic, wouldn't you say?"

"What is that?" Ivan grunted, pulling out the ingredients for the batter. "Artist aesthetic?"

"Oh, you know..." Alfred waved his hand. "Stargazing. Art supplies everywhere. Annotated poetry. Windowsill plants. Do you run a hipster blog, too?"

"Idiot." Ivan snorted. "For a lazy teenager, you sure don't sleep late."

Alfred matched Ivan's tone word for word. "And you rise early for a grandpa. Say, how old are you, anyway?"

Ivan cracked an egg into a mixing bowl. "Twenty-two."

"Oh. Nice. I was getting a little worried I had started to like an old man."

Ivan froze, slowly turning to look at Alfred. "What did you just say?"

Alfred looked like he was trying to move in every direction at once, and as a result, he remained completely still, firmly grounded in his chair, eyes wide. "N-no, I just—"

"Alfred." Ivan inhaled deeply, moving back to the waffle batter.

"I'm sorry." Alfred looked down at his hands, which were wrapped around his coffee mug. "I... I'm sorry if I creep you out or something. You've been so courteous to me, and I may have just been a jerk. That was a stupid thing to say."

"It isn't that." Ivan opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, wondering what to say. _I am sick. I am very, very sick, and though I might seem okay right now, I do not know how long I will be like this. I am sick and I could not put you through dealing with that._

Alfred looked discouraged, but his voice held a tinge of hope. "Well, what? Is it because I'm a guy? Is it the age gap? Is—"

"Stop." Ivan walked over to the table and sat down across from Alfred. "Those things are not the issue, either."

"Well, what is it, then?" Alfred let go of his coffee mug and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Just be honest with me. I know this is a childish question to ask, but do you think you could ever like me?"

 _I think I kind of already do._ Ivan didn't say that out loud; instead he looked directly into Alfred's eyes, his eyebrows furrowed. He knew he looked harsh, but that was the point. "I could. I definitely could. But I should not."

"Ivan, please." Alfred reached across the table for Ivan's hand, but when the Russian stiffened noticeably, Alfred drew his hand back quickly.

"Go home," Ivan said quietly.

Alfred looked taken aback. "I'm sor—"

Ivan shook his head quickly. "No. No, Alfred, listen to me. Go home. Think about if this is something you truly want. If you wish to pursue a relationship with me and think you can handle it, I will consider giving it a chance, too. I know your answer right now would be yes. But I want you to go home and really, really think about it."

"There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"

"And can you handle it?" Ivan asked, his voice challenging. Alfred looked out the window, his reflection skewed by raindrops. He was silent for a very long time.

"Drive me home, please," Alfred finally said, standing up and pulling out his phone. "I'll think about it. I really will." He smiled at Ivan. "But don't think you've seen the last of me, Braginsky."

* * *

"Let me guess, Ivan. You've been feeling rather well lately, correct?" Dr. Kiku Honda, Ivan's regular oncologist, looked up from his laptop and smiled gently at Ivan, waiting for a response. Dr. Honda was a quiet, polite Japanese man. Ivan held immense respect for him—Dr. Honda was still young, only in his early thirties, but was very intelligent and good at his job.

"Yes," Ivan said.

Dr. Honda tapped his keyboard a few times, his eyes scanning over the screen quickly. "I can't say I'm surprised. Things are looking very good, Ivan. Very good."

Ivan felt a mix of nervousness and hope in his stomach, and he swallowed hard. "Very good? Does that mean...?"

"Now, you know I won't lie to you or falsely raise your hopes. Honestly, it's much too soon to determine anything extremely useful right now. But I can tell you with certainty, you're better now that you've been since diagnosis. Much better. We need to keep an eye out, and make sure you keep doing everything you've been doing." Dr. Honda glanced at Ivan. "You have been getting enough sleep, yes?"

"Decent amount."

"What about rest? Please tell me you are not out and about all day."

Ivan hesitated. "I will try to tone it down."

Dr. Honda smiled. "Good. Now..." Dr. Honda continued to speak of medication, of treatment, of recovery. Ivan listened intently, nodding along, returning Dr. Honda's small smiles with grins of his own. It did not have to be terminal. There was a chance. Of course, there was always a chance.

By some miracle, some entanglement of the universe's coincidences—or maybe just the weather working in Ivan's favor—the rain cleared up around four in the afternoon. He knew Dr. Honda didn't want him straining himself too much, so instead of walking to the clearing, he drove a few minutes to the abandoned lot where teenagers occasionally hung around and did things of teenager nature. There was no one there. Ivan sat on the hood of his car and watched the meteor shower.

He knew Alfred was watching it, too, somewhere; eyes wide and excited.

Ivan smiled.

And it made it not so bad, Alfred not being there with him. They were both watching, intrigued, both looking at the same sky so that, if you could imagine hard enough, it almost felt like they were watching this together, sharing it between them.

* * *

"Oh my God. Oh my—holy. It's. This is. Ahh!" Mathias' smile was huge, and he flung his arms around Ivan and hugged his friend. "I love it so much."

Ivan smiled. "I am glad." He'd finally finished his Copenhagen commission, and since Mathias lived so close, the Dane just offered to swing by Ivan's apartment and pick it up. They sat on the couch, nestling cups of coffee in their hands, and chatted about life. Mathias was in the middle of telling a really animated story about a flock of pigeons that had chased Lukas a few days earlier in Brooklyn when the doorbell rang.

Mathias raised an eyebrow. "Expecting someone? Need me out?"

"No, no," Ivan said, standing up. "I do not know who that is. Just a moment." He shuffled over to the door, not too surprised when he opened it to reveal Alfred.

"Hi," Alfred said.

Ivan smiled softly. He had not heard from Alfred for a week. "Would you like to come in?"

"Please." Alfred entered, saw Mathias sitting on the couch, and froze. "I—sorry. I didn't know you had company."

Mathias laughed loudly. "Aw, kid, don't be so nervous. The name's Mathias. Firm believer in coffee and drunk dancing. And you?"

"I'm Alfred. Nice to meet you." Ivan noticed Alfred was acting shyer than usual. He assumed Ivan had come to tell him his answer. And Ivan also highly assumed the answer would be _yes._

"Ah-ah, Al. Ya gotta tell me one passion of yours. I told you two, so it's even more than fair, you hear?" He smiled in a good-natured way, blue eyes sparkling with interest. "It's how I gotta greet everyone."

Alfred grinned, and Ivan could practically see the high-schooler relaxing. Mathias generally had that effect on people. "A passion? Okay. Okay. Sloppy sunrises."

"Sloppy sunrises?" Mathias and Ivan asked at the same time.

"Yeah," Alfred said, sounding like he was close to bursting out laughing, "when you drink too much and get a hangover and wake up and the sunrise is all wrong."

"No! No!" Mathias shouted playfully. "You're just a kid! Not s'posed to be drinking in America!" Ivan and Alfred were both laughing. Mathias stood up and placed his coffee mug on the side table. He grabbed the Copenhagen painting. "Thanks so much. I'm just gonna head out now. Nice to meet you, Alfred. Hands off the alcohol for a few years." And, like that, it was just the two of them. Mathias' energetic presence still hung in the air, the sound of the door closing reverberating through the silence.

Alfred shuffled his feet awkwardly.

Ivan tried to stop smiling, but he found he couldn't. He really liked Alfred, he did. "Well? Sit down and tell me. Coffee?"

"No thanks."

Ivan tilted his head. "Well? Why did you come here?"

"I had to tell you something." Alfred was staring at the carpet.

Affection bubbled through Ivan, something he didn't know could happen because of someone like Alfred. "And what might that be?"

Alfred looked up, walked over to Ivan, and pressed his lips against the Russian's.


End file.
